


Beginner's Luck

by Jesse



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, commissioner's note: i'm sad about ambulon and i want him to have a good time, i think that counts, well here's ambulon staring at first aid's butt and pranking ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse/pseuds/Jesse
Summary: It's Ambulon's third day working for Ratchet, and First Aid is showing him the ropes. Or well, he'ssupposedto be. He seems to have other ideas in mind, which could get them into trouble, and Ambulon has no say in the matter. Spoiler: he does them anyway.





	Beginner's Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lintu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintu/gifts).



> Flash-sale 1k commission fic for @Firsteraid via Twitter.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s the best idea I’ve had in centuries.”

Ambulon stands there watching First Aid pulling down box after box of medical foil, and becomes even more nervous as the medic begins stacking the boxes in Ambulon’s unwilling arms. “I just don’t know why the first thought that came to your head upon Ratchet leaving for the afternoon was foil-wrapping his office.”

First Aid slaps another box onto the stack that Ambulon is holding, and then shakes his head as he grabs two more. “Once you work with Ratchet long enough, this will all make sense to you.” He tucks the two boxes under his arm, and then motions for Ambulon to follow him, who slips out of the storage closet carefully with the boxes held in his arms. 

After locking the door, First Aid motions for Ambulon to follow him. “Besides,” he says, trying to reignite their previous conversation, “You’re the new guy. You get to shadow me for the next two weeks. Whatever I say we’re going to do, you have to do.”

This is only his third shift here, but Ambulon feels like it might be his last. He’d only ever really heard stories about Ratchet, and he’s not sure how many of them were true or not. But he’d heard that the CMO is grumpy, short-tempered, and doesn’t tolerate anything fun. Still, he doesn’t want to lose his job for outright refusal to obey his instructor, either. First Aid seemed like a normal, level-headed guy for the first few shifts, even with the casual flirting (which Ambulon was terrible at reciprocating and didn’t know if he even SHOULD), but today it’s like a switch has been flipped, and Ambulon isn’t so sure about any of this.

The two mechs mosey their way into Ratchet’s office, and Ambulon isn’t about to ask how or why First Aid has the key code to it. He wouldn’t have had time to ask anyway; First Aid immediately begins grabbing the boxes out of Ambulon’s arms the moment he gets the door shut. Every box is torn open within minutes, and First Aid begins giddily unrolling the foil film across Ratchet’s immaculate desk. It didn’t help Ambulon to remember how expensive this stuff was, or how crucial it was to have it in combat. Ambulon looks down at the roll that First Aid has given to him, and for a brief second, he vividly remembers tearing sheets off a roll and using it to tightly wrap the end of a severed energon line in a wounded Decepticon’s chest. When you’re out of convenient patches or sealant, sometimes stuff like this is all you have.

Ambulon frowns, his fingers tightening their grip around the roll in his hand. He’s not going to think about the War. He’s.. he’s going to foil-wrap the office of his boss and will then lose his job. A better alternative than remembering stuff that he’d rather not.

Screw it.

“Well.. if I’m going to do something as stupid as this..” he mutters, glancing around the room, “I might as well get comfortable.” Walking over behind First Aid, Ambulon grabs Ratchet’s desk chair and yanks it back over to where he’d been standing previously. First Aid looks over at him as he sits down in the chair, and he gets a nod of approval, and a cute flash of his visor.

“See, that’s better. A little vandalism keeps us sane around here.” First Aid comes to the end of his first roll, and he’s already nearly done with the desk. Being very thorough about it, really. 

The two medics work quietly for awhile as they wrap everything from Ratchet’s computer to his data pads. Ambulon eventually wraps up the chair he’s sitting on, and returns it to behind the desk where it belongs. Every file, every stylus, every knick-knack in the office is wrapped and sealed with medical foil, and all that’s left to do are the walls and the floor. They’ve covered the walls as much as they can reach, but there’s the part near the ceiling that hasn’t been touched, and standing on the chair is out of the question since they’d just have to re-wrap it.

First Aid stares up at the ceiling as he tucks another roll of foil under his arm. “I’ll just have to get a boost.” He walks over to the wall, motioning for Ambulon to follow him. “Gimme a leg up, will you?”

Frowning, Ambulon sets down his foil roll and makes his way over to the medic. “Making cracks at my alt mode now? Thanks.”

There’s a visible flash of panic throughout First Aid’s visor, and he holds out his hands in protest, dropping the roll of foil in the process. “No, no!! That wasn’t it!! I wasn’t!!” But he was.

A grin cracks across Ambulon’s face, and he kneels down next to the wall, entwining his fingers to make a step for First Aid. “Kidding, really. Now get up here.”

Though his face is completely obscured by the mask and visor, Ambulon can practically see mad grin that First Aid is developing. He steps into Ambulon’s hand, who then lifts him up with both arms, holding him up high enough to stick foil onto the rest of the wall. First Aid’s pedes are braced lightly on Ambulon’s chest as he holds him, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him focused. He’s careful not to wobble around as they slowly work their way across the office, and Ambulon has to keep looking down to avoid staring at First Aid’s aft each time he looks up. He hopes that First Aid has no idea.

“Like what you see from down there?”

Slag.

Ambulon feels his face heating up a few degrees, and he tightens his grip on the medic’s legs to keep his fingers from trembling. “I uh.. Well..”

First Aid hums cheerily as Ambulon fumbles over his words, and it makes the new medic feel like he’s under a microscope. “Oh come on. Don’t think I haven’t caught you staring at me.” Despite his confident words, First Aid’s tone of voice is slightly unsure, as if he’s worried that he might actually be wrong.

“I mean.. yeah I’ve been looking. You’re nice. Nice to look at, I mean. A nice-looking medic. Nice mold. Nice.” Ambulon wishes he could have bitten off his glossa to make himself stop talking. Now he just wants the floor to open up and swallow him.

“You’re pretty nice yourself,” First Aid responds after a moment, slapping the last of the foil onto the wall. His servos stay pressed flat against the wall’s surface, holding his position. “I gotta hand it to ya, it takes some real ball bearings to admit something like that on your first week.. especially since you need a hand, seeing as how you’re a leg —”

The word “slagger” from Ambulon is muffled as First Aid topples over, his servos trying to cling to the wall but end up tearing a large section of foil off of it, and he nearly crushes Ambulon’s helm with his thighs as they both crash to the floor. Ambulon’s head narrowly misses hitting the desk, and he lets out an “oomf” as First Aid’s aft lands solidly on his chestplate. The medic tucks his legs neatly on either side of Ambulon, pedes near his hips, and he presses both servos flat against Ambulon’s upper chest. He leans down, his face mere inches away from the medic beneath him, who is fairly quivering from excitement and anxiety rolled up into one.

“You know..” First Aid starts, but doesn’t get time to finish as the door to the office slams open. Ambulon cranes his neck to the side, and his optics widen as he sees Ratchet standing there, energon cube in one hand, other hand on his hip. He stares down at the two medics, and takes a very long sip from his cube before speaking.

“I thought the point of foil-wrapping someone’s office involved the recipient tearing the foil down, not the other way around.” Ratchet makes an obvious glance at the section of missing foil that First Aid had accidentally taken with him. “And surely you two could find somewhere else to frag other than my office.”

“Sir, we weren’t fra—” Ambulon’s words are cut short as First Aid presses a servo to his mouth, who looks up at the CMO after. 

“It seemed better than a closet.”

“Get out.”

The two medics scramble out of the office, and Ratchet sits down in his chair without even bothering to remove the foil. He’ll make them do it later.

First Aid says nothing as the two hurry along, but his visor is glowing bright blue, and Ambulon thinks he might be blushing. It makes him blush a bit, too. Regardless, he hasn’t had that much fun in quite some time. Maybe transferring here wasn’t the worst thing to have happened to him.


End file.
